Sly and Determined
by ventforblock
Summary: If there is one thing Draco Malfoy definitely is, it's determind. He WILL get what he wants. But what happens when the one thing he wants.... has no idea?
1. Chapter 1

**So, I haven't been on for a while and, upon finding myself with writer's block on my other story, I started a new one. Please don't kill me. . Anyway, here we go.**

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Draco Malfoy was not at all pleased.

Then again, when was he ever?

The young man sat, chin propped on the desk, staring over his folded arms in the general direction of the front of the classroom. He honestly didn't give a rat's arse about turning a newt into a mirror. When would he ever need to know _that? _He had plenty of other things he could see himself learning, and actually using.

He cast the girl sharing the table with him that day a slight glance. She was pretty enough, gold hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, out of her dark brown eyes. She gave an exasperated sigh and half-shouted at the slightly-flattened reptile on the table again. He sighed and withdrew his gaze. Hopeless. But he made no move to help her, blinking groggily. White blonde hair fell into his silver eyes, but he did not move to clear the line of his vision.

"Draco," the girl whined petulantly, "won't you help me?" She stuck out her lower lip a little and looked up at him innocently. He almost sneered. Without a word, he drew his wand, and murmured the spell in a barely audible whisper. The already-flat newt continued to change shape, scaly skin replaced by gilt until a silver-handled mirror sat in its place.

"Save your simpering," he grumbled, casting her a sharp glance, "it does nothing to flatter you."

She inhaled sharply through her nose and he looked away, slipping into a brooding stupor.

He had reasons for his…. odd mood, though they were not ones to be expected. He had found out through the grapevine that he was not considered for Head Boy the next year. In fact, it was almost definite that some Ravenclaw suck-up would be Head. And Draco was taking it less than gracefully. He knew his father would not be pleased, especially since his god-father was a teacher. He should be doing better than second-rate. And when Lucius was not pleased, no one was.

Draco lifted his head as students began filing out of the classroom. He slowly stood, gathering his things into his bag. When he stepped around the desk, he made a point to bump the boy who was taking his rightful place as Head especially hard with his shoulder. The smaller boy immediately fell back into his chair and Draco didn't give him a passing glance.

His eyes wandered over the halls, somehow seeking out the one person in the world he really couldn't stand.

Hermoine fucking Granger

She would undoubtedly be Head Girl, and that was another reason he was not pleased about the Head Boy selection. Hey, they may not get along—hell, they couldn't stand each other—but that was a hot piece of ass, no denying that. In fact, she seemed oblivious to her own appearance. Her breasts had blossomed, but she did not opt for a better-sized blouse. No, she kept the same one, torturing any male with the look of the top buttons straining not to pop off. Hell, she even had curves and, if she didn't know it, showed them off. Her walk, so full of confidence, almost a swagger, drew all eyes to those curves. He found it hard to believe someone so incredibly intelligent could be so oblivious.

She didn't even look in his direction; almost oblivious to his burning gaze on her as she walked away with those two dolts she called friends. Oh, Draco _knew_ one of them, if not both, must be shagging her. How else did they get so close? He refused to think they were as oblivious as she was. His eyes narrowed slightly and he turned on his heel toward the Slytherin Common Room. But even before he reached the dungeons, a plan was already forming in his mind. A smile pulled at his lips as his two _best friends_ jumped to their feet when he entered.

"Gentlemen, there is something we need to do…"

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**Crappy beginning it may be, but I promise I will TRY to make up for it. Review? Be harsh!**


	2. Chapter 2

The small—hell, he was downright shrimpy!—boy tried to press himself further into the wall, eyes flying between the three Slytherins. He looked about ready to cry.

"You know why I'm here," Draco drawled casually, arms crossed loosely. He tossed his hair to one side, out of his face. It could have been called a feminine gesture if it weren't for the fact that he had a habit of scaring people into silence.

The boy shook his head furiously. "I-I really don't," he stammered, "I-I just want to g-go talk to Hermione ab-bout…" Draco's eyes darkened and the boy trailed off nervously.

"Crabbe. Goyle. Why don't we show our friend what happens to those who don't know their place?"

The boy squeaked and held up a hand defensively. Crabbe and Goyle both sneered.

"Wait, wait! I'll give you whatever you want, anything!"

"Anything?" Draco purred, smirking, "Anything? I want you gone." His voice dropped into a dark growl. "Fail exams, transfer, I don't care. But I want you and that Head Boy post eons apart, do you understand?" He leaned down; face inches from the smaller boy's. "Or I will make sure it is done for you. Is that indisputably clear, half-blood?"

The boy's eyes widened and he burst out, "But why?"

A meaty fist made hard contact with his stomach and he fell heavily with a sickening thump.

"Don't question someone above you, mutt," Draco airily replied. He turned on his heel and started away. As Crabbe's foot dug into the boy's ribs, Draco called back, "And remember what I said. Gone."

He strode down the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle trailing dutifully behind him. The boy dragged himself to his knees, off the floor, and furtively glanced after the three. He grimaced as he staggered to his feet, eyes wide and pallor blanched as he bolted in the opposite direction.

"What do you mean 'Connor transferred to Durmstrang'?!" Hermione demanded, glaring at her two friends. She crossed her arms angrily, hip popping out. The two exchanged a nervous glance before looking back up at her from their place on the grass.

"Hermione… Calm down, it's no big deal. You're still Head Girl. Nothing's really changed."

"Wrong, Potter."

The three all looked up at Draco as he settled himself a few yards away, arms behind his head.

"And how would _you_ know, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped, turning her gaze to him. Her hair was slowly slipping out of the ponytail she'd put it in, falling into her face. Her whiskey-gold eyes were cold and her expression was stony.

"Because, Granger," he said lazily, "I have special privileges making me privy to suck things."

"That's a load of bullocks, Malfoy," she snapped, lifting her chin. The way he said "special privileges" set her teeth on edge. "What possible privileges could you have?"

"Yeah, what are you on about, Malfoy?" Ron chimed in.

Draco smirked, a devil-may-care crook of his mouth that surely indicated he was up to no good.

"Watch how your tone, Weasel, it's unbecoming. As for you, Granger, that attitude could get you into trouble. You should treat with the respect a man of my position deserves."

She stared at him incredulously, brow arching slowly as the silence stretched on. Breezes wreaked havoc on her hair, pulling it completely loose. She didn't bother with it, still staring, frustrated, at Draco.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that royal pains in the arse don't deserve any respect Malfoy," she finally said, breaking the silence. The cupid's bow of her lips curled into a delicate, victorious smile as she shook her hair out of her face.

Draco didn't respond, still not-so-discreetly staring at her. The movement of her lips, the windblown look of her hair, he was too busy watching and imagining to reply at first.

"I think you struck him speechless, 'Mione…" Harry said, chuckling.

"Very funny, Potter," Draco spat, "but I don't intend to give Granger that pleasure. Although we will be seeing much more of each other…"

"For Merlin's sake, what _are_ you on about, Malfoy?" she demanded, rolling her sleeves toward her elbows. Something about his statement made her uneasy and skeptical.

"Well, Granger, since you asked so _nicely_, I'm the new Head Boy." He smiled a bit more, looking at her through his eyelashes. Her cheeks colored and her posture abruptly stiffened. Her confidence seemed to wane. Anxiety flitted across her face and her gaze darted to her friends.

"Since when?" Harry demanded, trying to keep the shock out of his own voice. Ron didn't even look able to speak, freckles standing out on his pale pallor and fists clenched. Punching Draco looked much more likely.

"Because your friend Connor transferred and I was chosen to replace him." Draco chuckled. "Funny ol' world, isn't it? You seem surprised."

Hermione shifted her weight uncomfortably, then snatched her bag off the ground.

"I have to go," she muttered, quickly heading back into the castle.

Draco stared after her, enjoying the brush of her skirt against the back of her legs, the swing of her hips, the seductively curved nip of her waist. He would have her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone who has favorite or reviewed. =) Now that I've "set the stage", time to fast forward a bit.**

The train station was bustling and the air was bloated with sound. Students bid their families hasty farewells before leaping onto the train to join their friends. First-year students looked terrified of the great red train.

"Well, Draco, off you go."

Draco glanced over his shoulder at his father. No "good luck", no "congratulations", nothing. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He strode away from his father and stepped up into the train.

"Oh, Hermione, we're so proud of you!"

Draco stopped, looking back from the doorway.

"Oh, Mom, thank you! I'm so excited!"

He sneered as the two women hugged. Her father stood, smiling nearby.

"Go, the trains waiting. Enjoy yourself!"

Hermione smiled, bade them a quick good bye and kissed her father's cheek. She strode confidently toward the train, right toward Draco.

"Good morning, Granger," he said, stepping aside.

"Good morning," was her crisp reply. She was already in her school robes. The smell of lavender and vanilla drifted up to him as she swept past. He watched as she tossed her bag into the Heads' compartment. He made a move toward their shared space, but she spun and slammed into his chest. Almost automatically, he put one arm around her back and grabbed the wall with the other.

"Malfoy!" She pushed off of him with a huff. She glowered at him indignantly. "Please move."

He thought about refusing, he thought about dragging her back into the compartment. But he mentally slapped himself and stepped aside, gesturing her past with an arm.

"Thank you." Her stride was quick as she walked past, most likely toward her friends' compartment. He watched her until she ducked into one. She infuriated him. She was the embodiment of everything he couldn't have. She tormented him.

He turned and slouched into the richly upholstered seat. Every fiery insult she threw at him made him want to test just how fiery she really was. Every defiant toss of her head, every indignant stare made him want to force her to submit. He wanted to punish her for torturing him. He wanted to throw her down and rip her shirt to shreds. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and ravage her lips. He wanted to push her skirt up around her waist and-

The train jolted forward and he nearly fell from his perch.

"Malfoy why aren't you in your robes?"

He hadn't heard her return. He looked up and smirked.

"Because the train just started moving. We have hours before we arrive. Really, Granger, relax."

She rolled her eyes, leaning in the door.

"Malfoy, you could set a good example, you know. We are Heads."

"I am setting a good example," he replied, loosely crossing his arms, "See, I'm sitting quietly, not causing trouble."

"Just change," she retorted with an exasperated sigh.

"Do you just not like what I'm wearing, Granger? Am I indecent?" He looked down at what he was wearing. "I thought I looked quite stylish."

She pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head with a sigh.

"I am not having this argument with you, Malfoy."

"Good. Because I'm not changing." He smirked triumphantly, crossing one ankle over his knee.

"Malfoy, really? I thought being this immature was beneath you." She quirked an eyebrow, a silent challenge.

Draco scoffed, standing. He stood almost an entire head above her.

"Thank you for that veiled compliment. But we can argue about this all you want Granger, but you can't make me do anything. As much as that may bother you, you will have to accept my refusal to comply. I find cashmere much more comfortable than the second-rate fibers they've disguised as cotton anyway."

She studied him for a second before lowering her eyes to study his chest. She reached out and rubbed the sleeve of his sweater between her fingers. She shook her head with a knowing smile.

"You would, Malfoy. You would feel the necessity to point out your family's affluence." She scoffed lightly. "I can only imagine the inadequacy you're trying to cover up under that façade."

He scowled and leaned toward her, expression dark.

"Keep imagining, Granger. Maybe you'll get to see it one day."


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment. Her expression was momentarily frozen, as if she didn't understand.

"What did you say to me?"

He sneered, planting his hands on either side of the door.

"Keep dreaming, Granger. You just with you would see me-"

Her palm made solid contact with his cheek and his words died on his lips. Her cheeks were colored and she looked ready to hex him. He looked back to her slowly.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way!" she snapped. She pulled back to smack him again.

He grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again and pulled her into the compartment.

"You know, I almost let you get away with the first one, but seconds? You're quite greedy, Granger. And you're going to regret that," he growled. She swung her other hand at him, but he grabbed that arm too. She tried to wriggle free, but he turned and pushed her into the window.

"Malfoy, let go of me. Right now!" She jerked her knee up to kick him, but he stepped back.

"Not a chance, Granger."

She tried to kick him again and he dropped one of her arms to catch her knee.

She punched him as hard as she could.

He grabbed his jaw and she went to run past him, but he blocked her path with his shoulder.

"Little bitch," he muttered, grabbing her shoulder and pressing her back into the window.

"Don't touch me." She moved to push past him, but he gripped her shoulder tighter. "Malfoy, you're hurting me, let go."

"You're a fucking piece of work, Granger. You walk around like you're the greatest fucking thing ever; like we should all be thankful you deign to look at us. You're nothing. You're nothing but a stuck up bookworm with absolutely no common sense and no respect for anyone." He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "You're nothing anyone would miss." He smirked. "And just think, if it wasn't for you insulting my honor, you would have lived your life not knowing that."

Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted. He thought about taking what he wanted right there, in fact he even inched a little closer, but she pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head.

"Good to know what you think of me, Malfoy, considering we'll be working together this year. Now let go of me."

He laughed, moving back a little, but not taking his hand from her shoulder.

"Oh yes, we'll be 'working' together, Granger. Good to clear the air since we'll see each other every day, every night. Every moment. Nice thought to keep in mind, don't you-"

"Mr. Malfoy, what is going on here?"

He turned, face to face with the forbidding scowl of Minerva McGonagall.

"I would appreciate it if you would release Miss Granger, as I'm sure she would too."

He obeyed reluctantly and Hermione brushed past him haughtily and all but ran down the aisle.

"Really, Mr. Malfoy, I would hope that the top two students of your class would be able to show some house unity," she said disapprovingly. She gave him one last look over her glasses before striding away.

Draco was left alone, then. His fists clenched and he flopped back into his seat again. A bit of his white blond hair flopped into his eyes but he hastily pushed it away. His jaw clenched and unclenched rhythmically. How dare she insult him like that. No woman would make a fool of him. He ground his teeth. His desire to make her his had grown, but now also to dominate her. To put her exactly where she belonged.

He closed his eyes for a second. The vision of her face came to his mind's eye, terror fleeting through her eyes when he pinned her to the window, the dramatic rise and fall of her chest, the close proximity of their bodies. How easy it would have been to ravage her right then. To mark every inch of that soft flesh as his own. He could almost see himself ripping her shirt off, running his hands over her bra—probably plain, white—and making her beg for more. A little groan escaped him and he rubbed his eyes before opening them. But his conjured image of her would not fade, burned into his eyes. He grumbled under his breath and glanced down at his lap. He swore and scrambled to his feet, reaching for his bag. He threw on his loose robes haphazardly. At least they covered his hard on. Damn that bookworm.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am exceptionally pleased with the number of people who have reviewed or favorite, so thank you to you all! I apologize for the shortness of chapters, as I have been trying to update as soon as possible and therefore sacrificing length of content. As for any plot-related concerns, you'll just have to wait and see! ;)**

Draco flopped unceremoniously onto the downy king-sized mattress. He stared listlessly up at the heavy green canopy. The room was bedecked in Slytherin paraphernalia and a fire crackled in the hearth. His gaze was glassy, his arms haphazardly arrayed over his head. He kicked his shoes off with a grunt but didn't move to get under the blankets. He just stayed there, arms splayed over the bed, fully clothed. What low had he fallen to? It was already halfway through the winter months and the Slytherin Prince was in bed, fully clothed, alone?

In a flash, he was on his feet and pacing before the fire. His eyes flashed with every turn he made on his heel, his hair in disarray as he raked his fingers through it. His jaw was tense, the angled planes of his face cast into sharp relief by the flickering flames. He let out an inarticulate growl and struck the nearest object, which happened to be the edge of the small table beside the fireplace. It fell over with a bang, sending the decorative candles some house elf had left there skittering across the floor. He swore loudly and kept pacing. Frustration burned through his veins like acid. It was all that bloody Granger's fault. She was to blame for his… his slump. She was to blame. That perfect little Gryffindor. She always seemed to be looking down on him, always. If he even looked at a girl, she acted disgusted all day. They never spoke, but he knew she thought ill of him. He wasn't doing anything wrong, per say, after all, it was what they wanted. She was just jealous. Yes, that was it. Then why was it that he still didn't have her?! He kicked the table ferociously and it banged across the room and crashed into the wall. He swore loudly and repeatedly. His door flew open.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's name is going on in here?" Hermione stood in his doorway, wand in hand. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. "You are aware that it's late, aren't you?" She was panting lightly, chest rising and falling steadily. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." She pushed her hair out of her face and straightened her tee shirt before clearing her throat. "Now are you going to answer me?"

He didn't answer immediately, studying her. Her hair was tousled, but he wanted to muss it himself. She slept in a plain white tee shirt that clung to her frame tightly and- He averted his eyes to the fire. She didn't wear a bra to bed.

"Malfoy, I asked you a question!"

"Well, Granger, I obviously had a row with that end table." His voice dripped with sarcasm and it was no wasted on the young witch.

"You really are an arse, Malfoy," she grumbled, "You create this insufferable racket in the middle of the night, then become a complete git when someone gets upset. Why in the world are you even creating such a racket, anyway?"

"Such language from Gryffindor's Princess," he sneered, brow arching as he risked a glance at her. She made a face at him.

"Fuck you."

His eyes widened a bit and he grinned, turning toward her slowly.

"My dear Hermione Granger! You seem testy. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. Her gaze was level and almost uncaring.

"I'm just surprised you even know my first name, Draco," she replied acerbically, "And I'm 'testy' because it's two in the bloody morning and you woke me up with no purpose other than to be a complete arse. Have you even slept yet?"

"Actually, I didn't wake you on purpose. I'm an arse because you burst into my room. Uninvited, I might add." He chuckled and shrugged. "Guess your curiosity got the better of you. Wanted to see the infamous bedroom of Draco Malfoy?"

Her cheeks colored and she tensed.

"Piss off, I thought maybe… I don't know, something had happened."

He laughed, nonchalantly removing his tie and untucking his shirt. He shoved his hands in his pockets\, watching her.

"So you say. I just think you got tired of being so close yet… so very far away. Or maybe you're just tired of being the only girl in seventh year who hasn't…" he trailed off with a smirk as her cheeks flushed darker.

"I don't have to listen to this." She turned quickly and briskly walked back toward her room. He took one step outside his room, watching her walk away in her short sleep shorts.

"So that's it. You're jealous. You're jealous because your virgin-self is the only seventh year girl I haven't slept with. It bothers you." He chuckled. "Does it keep you awake at night?"

She had stopped halfway across the common area between their rooms. Her shoulders were tense and her fists clenched. She was stalking back toward him across the room before he had another chance to laugh.

"You disgusting, obnoxious, vile, despicable cretin. You… you appalling, insolent, scurrilous Neanderthal!" Her face was inches from his and her wand pressed to his chest. "Don't you ever think of me as one of your derisive little 'accomplishments'. Because I am not some easy little little… trollop in a back alley. Am I being clear?" She turned away again. "I'm sure even a nitwit prick like you has a sense of self-preservation, Malfoy." Her stride was quick as she half ran to her room. Her hand was poised to open the door when he spoke again.

"Can't say I'm surprised you've never had sex, Granger. You're far too prude-ish for that. Wouldn't want to sully your reputation and all that shit. Shame really."

Her hand was on the door, but he could see that it was taking all her will power not to jinx him into next week. She finally turned back to him.

"And why is that such a shame, Malfoy?"

Her reply shocked him for a moment, but his smirk slid back into place. He leaned against the doorframe casually.

"Because the way you and I fight, you seem like you'd be one hell of a shag."

He saw her blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck. He could see her try to breathe calmly through her nose. But best of all, he could see the wheels turning in her head, and he knew she was thinking about it, imagining it. Imagining their bodies, clothes forgotten; imagining his hands touching her everywhere, making her scream in absolute delight; imagining what it was like to have those walls torn down by none than he. Her lips parted slightly and he watched her nipples harden under the thin cotton of her tee shirt. His smirk widened and mischief glinted in his eye. She floundered for words for a moment before she turned and bolted into her room, slamming the door behind her.

He chuckled darkly, stepping back into his own room and closing the door quietly. Maybe now she knew what he thought every time he saw her.


	6. Chapter 6

"Granger, for Merlin's sake, hurry up!"

"Sod off, Malfoy!"

He banged on the door again, growing more and more frustrated. They were already late again. It was becoming a habit for her to be late like this, and he was sure she did it on purpose.

"Granger! Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago!" He could hear her frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. It was her fault they were late in the first place. The door flew open and he took an instinctive step back.

"Then just go without me," she snapped. Her hair was still damp and she held a towel around her torso. He only stared for a second and her cheeks slowly began to color. He cleared his throat as casually as he could and glanced away.

"You just got out of the shower? What in the world takes you so long?" he grumbled. She rolled her eyes.

"If you're going to complain, just leave," she replied. There was no fight in her voice. "Don't get yourself into a snit on my account." She slammed the door in his face.

"Oh no, I'm not walking in late alone. No way, Granger. This is your fault."

She laughed and he resisted the urge to throw the door open. He could hear her moving around.

"Afraid to be the center of attention, Malfoy? Are you ill? It's very unlike you." She laughed.

"Very funny, Granger. But it's easier to blame you when you're there."

"Well, you didn't have to wait."

He stood, dumb, for a moment. Slowly, his eyes narrowed and his expression darkened. That witch… It was her fault! _Her_ fault! She was the reason for every one of his misfortunes. Every single one! His blood boiled and his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw shifted back and forth and ground his teeth together. The unconscious torture she put him through, her attitude toward everything about him, even her humanity and unintentional kindness was like punishment to him. His mind flew back to that night in the dormitory, pulling up the picture of her as she leaned against his door, aloof, and asking what was bothering him. He shook his head. He was tired of it, tired of her games, tired of waiting. He grabbed the door and jerked it open.

She yelped and jumped back, away from the door. Her shirt hung open off her body, exposing her stomach and her pale pink bra. Her cheeks darkened and her hands flew to wrap her shirt around herself.

"Malfoy, that the hell are you doing?! Get out!" she shrieked.

He ignored her, pressing her against the wall and grabbing her wrists. She squeaked when he pressed his thigh between hers.

"Stop it, Malfoy."

He leaned his head down beside her ear, his breath brushing across her cheek. He could see her turn her head just a bit, enough to see him in the corner of her fear-filled eye.

"I'm tired of waiting, Hermione."

He saw her eyes widen slightly and covered her lips with his. She struggled, trying to free her wrists, or even run away. But he held her fast, trying, gently, to earn a reaction. She gave him none. He let go of one of her arms and slid his hand under her shirt, fingers leaving trails of heat over her skin. She desperately tried to push him off by his shoulder, but she may as well have been trying to move the wall. She turned her head in an attempt to deter him, but his lips attached to the underside of her jaw.

"Malfoy, stop it. Let go." Her voice wavered and her breath was shaky. He smirked, raising his head.

"You don't mean that, Hermione," he purred, letting her other arm go and turning her face toward his. She opened her mouth to reply and he captured her lips again. His tongue snuck between her lips and his hand slid up her back. He could hear the sharp intake of her breath as her body arched against his. He brought his other hand to her stomach, sliding it up to the edge of her bra. He bit her lip lightly and her hands gripped his shoulders. But she didn't push him away. Nor did she pull him close. He let his hand brush over her breast, over her bra and she gasped against his lips. His tongue dove in again, brushing hers lightly as he ghosted his hand over her chest again.

"Please…" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"'Please' what, Hermione?"

"Draco…"

Something snapped. His name on her swollen lips, his hands on her skin. He hurriedly ripped her shirt off and slipped his hand under her bra. He attacked her neck savagely and she gasped, burying her hands in his hair. His fingers worked expertly on her breast, making her squirm as he tried to undo the garment in his way. As soon as her bra fell from her body, he lifted her off the ground and took her nipple his mouth. Her head fell back and she hooked one leg over his hip.

"Oh, Merlin, Draco…"

He sucked hard and she moaned. He could tell that soon he wouldn't stop, even if the castle was falling down around them. She was so soft, so sensitive to every touch. He sucked greedily and she whimpered helplessly as his hand slid from her breast down her stomach to the top of her skirt. He traced her hip lightly before he pushed her skirt up to her waist. She tugged his hair lightly and he looked up at her through lust-darkened eyes.

"Draco, stop. Please. It's too far already." She was shaking and he could feel the light strain on his arms to hold her up.

"Why?" he growled, grip tightening instinctively. Her chest rose and fell dramatically, inches below his face.

"Why keep going?" Her voice cracked a bit as his breath brushed across her skin. "This doesn't _mean_ anything."

"So?"

She pushed his away, barely a few inches; just enough to let her slide back to the ground. He pushed her back into the wall again, but she kept her arms between them.

"You're sexually frustrated and taking it out on me." Her casual, calculated explanation shocked him for a second. "You hate me, Malfoy. You don't care." There… No more "Draco". They were back to impersonal last names. She wasn't going to just get away. No, he'd sampled what he wanted, and now he wanted to take it, all of it.

"What makes you so positive I'll stop just because you say so, Granger?" He looked down at her, almost threateningly. She floundered for a moment.

"B-Because…" Fear slipped into her voice.

"'Because', Granger?" He slipped one arm around her waist, his other supporting him with his forearm on the wall. He could see that, with each second, realization was dawning on her, realization that this was out of her control.

"B-Be-Because… No!" Her fist struck his jaw and once again he realized how hard she could actually hit. She ducked under his arm and bolted, slamming her door behind her. He heard the deadbolt click. He pounded on the door, anger rising.

"Granger!"

She didn't answer and his anger turned into fury.

"Granger, I will blow this door to pieces!"

"Try!"

His blood boiled and he drew his wand from his robes. He pointed it at her door.

"Flipendo!"

The door didn't budge and he was thrown back. He hit the floor with a thud. Damn her, she would have wards on her door. He struck the tiles angrily and scrambled to his feet. Damn her. He had been so close, so close to what he wanted, what he had been _waiting_ for. He swore up and down, stalking out of the bathroom and out of the Heads' dormitory. His footfalls were heavy through the empty corridors, his frustration palpable as he stomped toward the Great Hall.


	7. Generally Pointless Author's Note

**Hello All. Just felt like adding this.**

**I apologize to everyone if words are omitted from these stories. My brain works faster than my fingers, I guess, and I never seem to catch it. Again, I apologize whole-heartedly.**

**Other than that, thank you everyone who added this story to their favorites, or left me wonderful bits of input. =)**

**Also, I seem to be having issues uploading the 7th Chapter, so, for now, this will be on hold. No worries, it IS written, Fanfic just doesn't seem to want to download it.**


	8. Chapter 7

**'Ello my lufflies. =3 So I fixed whatever made Fanfic hate this chapter (by doing nothing?), so here you go! Sorry it took so long to write BUT I believe things are getting interesting now... 3**

* * *

"Oi, Malfoy!"

"Sod off, Weaselby, I'm not in the mood for your incompetence."

Ron scowled and started after the Slytherin, quickly catching up with him and grabbing his shoulder.

"Malfoy, where's Hermione? No one's seen her for days."

Draco sneered and jerked out of the Gryffindor's grip.

"Why should I care where Granger is? I haven't seen her either. She probably locked herself in her room, or something ridiculous."

Draco's response seemed to upset Ron, making his fists clench and, for a moment, Draco wondered if he should be concerned.

"She's been having her assignments sent up to her. She doesn't get sick, Malfoy, so she must be upset about something."

"As apt an observation that may seem, Weasley, I'm sure you're overestimating the abilities of the bookworm's immune system," Draco scoffed, starting away briskly. He didn't get far though, as Ron grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

"I'm serious, Ferret. If you upset her, then you'll regret ever setting foot in Hogwarts," Ron threatened, his voice low.

"Resorting to pet names, are we?" Draco spat, "Besides, Weasel, I doubt there's anything you can do to me, no matter how hopelessly infatuated with Granger you are."

Ron turned as red as his hair and stammered for a reply, but Draco stalked away in a flurry of robes.

* * *

Draco burst into the Heads' Common Room and threw his bag into one of the winged arm chairs by the fire. Hermione was nowhere to be found. He scowled and stomped up to her room, banging on the door.

"Granger! Open up!"

There was no answer. He banged again but the silence stretched on. He growled something and tried the door. It was just as locked as it had been three days before.

"You can't stay in there forever!"

"Watch me!"

He was momentarily shocked by how harsh her voice was, then angered. What was she trying to prove? She hadn't protested until she knew he was hooked, that little minx. He swore up and down, shouting profanities at her door.

"Is that entirely necessary?" the portrait beside him asked incredulously. Draco glared at it and stalked off into his room, throwing an obscene gesture over his shoulder, and slammed the door.

He paced angrily, raking his fingers through his hair. She was just being difficult, that was all. She was just trying t piss him off. Well, it was working! He leaned against the mantle, staring at the fire. He could never understand why people did this to think—it never worked for him—but he decided to try. The flames danced, oblivious to his ferocious glare. Sparks winked in and out of existence, teasingly inviting him. With a huff, he pushed away from the hearth and resumed pacing. She had to leave her room eventually. She would starve. Unless she sent for a house elf, but she hated doing that, he knew. She was always harping on wizards with house elves, claiming they were slave drivers, or something equally atrocious. She always had to be a bloody saint… But if she wasn't summoning house elves, she had to be leaving her room sooner or later. He thought over that possibility for a moment, eyes narrowing. He could wait out in the Common Room at night until she emerged and then… No more waiting and discreetly trying to lure her to his bed. He'd wasted too much time with that.

* * *

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly as Professor McGonagall droned on about properly transfiguring a pocket watch into a water glass. Surely there was something useful the crazy woman could teach them… He shook his head a bit and sat up a little straighter. If he fell asleep, he was sure she'd transfigure him into a water glass. He shivered. He was not partial to the thought of being transfigured again.

Hermione had made no effort to leave her room the night before, so he had stayed up for nothing. And he was not entirely pleased about it. How long could she stay up there? He gave himself a little shake and tried to focus his eyes on the front of the class room. He'd find out soon enough.

* * *

"You insufferable git! I never want to see you again!"

Draco paused as he entered the Common Room, unsure why there was a distinctly female voice screeching. A door slammed and he heard heavy footsteps tramping down the stairs. He busied himself with the laces of his shoes and glanced up through the fringe of his hair as none other than Ron Weasley stomped out. His eyebrow quirked up instinctively and he cautiously trotted up the stairs.

"Granger?" he asked quietly, leaning against the door frame.

"Go away!" Muffled sobs leaked out.

"Granger, what just happened?"

"I said go away!" More sobs.

"Granger, I- Hermione. Would you please tell me what's wrong?"

"No!" Her voice cracked.

"Please, Hermione," he persisted, curiosity drawing on his charm, "Contrary to common consensus, I don't hate you. Now would you please tell me what Weasley has done to upset you so?" There was silence and he placed his ear to the door. "Hermione?" He heard locks clicking and stepped back. She peeked out through a crack in the door and he could see the tear tracks down her cheeks.

"You don't? Hate me, I mean?" she asked, voice shaky and barely audible. He made a move to wipe the moisture from her face but she shrunk back and he let his hand drop.

"No, I don't. I find her insufferable at times, but no." He shrugged. "Would you prefer if I did?" She shook her head. "Good. Now will you please explain why you were screaming at Weasley and he stormed off? And why you're crying?"

She gave a watery chuckle and opened the door a bit further. He noted that she looked like a wreck; a sexy wreck, but still a wreck.

"Oh, Ron and I had a tiff. He started it, really."

"'A tiff'? A tiff usually doesn't warrant 'You insufferable git', my dear." He smirked, raising one eyebrow. She shrugged and tried to smile.

"Disagreement, whatever. Either way, he's still a git and I still don't want to see him again." She crossed her arms over her chest decisively.

"Why?"

She looked uncomfortable for a second before she let her arms fall to her sides, shaking her head. Draco held out a hand to her, but she regarded it suspiciously.

"Really, Granger? I'm being nice." He smiled crookedly. "Why don't you come down? Eat something?" Her stomach gurgled loudly and he chuckled. "Please, Hermione?"

Tentatively, she took his hand and he led her down to the Common Room. She fell gratefully into an armchair before the fire. He knocked three times on the wall below a frieze of the Hogwarts crest and, seconds later, there was a crack. Dobby blinked at Draco, confused.

"Yes, young master Malfoy?" he asked cautiously.

"Can you bring up some sandwiches, Dobby? Ms. Granger hasn't been going to meals lately," he asked, nodding toward Hermione. Dobby spun to look at her with a gasp.

"Miss Granger shouldn't do such thingses. Miss Granger is too kind, she is! Dobby will bring sandwiches!" With another crack he was gone before Hermione could protest.

"I wish he wouldn't. I can get them myself."

"He wants to," Draco said with a blasé shrug, "In case you hadn't noticed, he likes you." He took the chair opposite her, moving his bag to the floor. "Now why are you and Weasley in a… 'tiff'?"

She opened her mouth to reply when Dobby reappeared with a crack, a tray piled high with sandwiches and pumpkin juice balanced on his head.

"Miss Granger must eat!" he cried desperately, setting the tray on the small coffee table and gesturing toward the food. She smiled politely and took one, taking a bite. Her satisfied "mmm" made Dobby's face light up with glee and he hastily poured her a glass of pumpkin juice. She continued to eat and Draco watched as patiently as he could.

"Thank you, Dobby," he finally said as the house elf began to supplicate Hermione to have a third sandwich midway through her second. Dobby recognized the dismissal and cleared his throat.

"Wait, Dobby," Hermione interjected, dashing back up to her room for a moment. She handed the house elf a brown-wrapped bar with a smile. Dobby grinned before disappearing with a now-familiar crack.

"What did you give him?" Draco inquired skeptically.

"A chocolate bar," she answered plainly, finishing her sandwich. Draco regarded her quizzically for a moment, brain turning. She didn't have to come down. She could have stayed holed up there if she had reserves of chocolate bars… He shook his head.

"No wonder he likes you," he muttered. He sat back a bit and continued, "So, care to explain? Not the chocolate bar, of course."

"Of course," she said with a giggle, "On one condition." When he didn't protest she took a sip of her pumpkin juice and continued, "Why do you suddenly care?"

"I'm appalled, Granger. Here I am being nice, and you're playing me out to be a villain." He looked affronted.

"Oh, come off it, Malfoy. You've always been a villain. Don't act all contrite and innocent now. Why do you care? You never did before. In fact you used to go out of your way to make me miserable."

Draco thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure," he finally said, shrugging. She nodded slowly. "I guess I'm tired of being a bad guy. I kinda wanna try to be a good guy." _Is that what she wants to hear?_ he thought quickly.

She snorted a laugh and he scowled at her.

"You have to admit that you're not one for shows of compassion and kindness," she drawled with a grin.

"Hey, I can be nice," he said defensively.

"Sure," she said with another laugh.

"So?"

"'So'?"

"Are you going to answer me?" he asked, "I did answer your question, after all."

"True," she said with a nod. He waited and she gave a small smile. "Well, Ron and I argued-"

"I got that."

"Shush! We were arguing because he is under the impression that I am avoiding him, then accused me of… of fornicating with every man in Hogwarts, then said that I was avoiding answering him." She shook her head.

"'Answering him'?"

"He… Well, Ron told me he fancied me…"

"Ah, he asked you out."

"Not exactly…"

Draco's eyebrows shot up and her cheeks turned red. He thought it was quite cute.

"'Not exactly'? I'm afraid you'll have to clarify, Granger."

She chewed her lip and he was once again reminded of why the past three days had been hell on earth. He suppressed a groan.

"Well… He more or less propositionedme, more than anything else…" Her voice grew softer and softer as she spoke until it was barely audible. Draco just stared, brain turning over and over. The thought of Weasley doing anything with Hermione only bother him **a lot**.

"He had no right to accuse me of avoiding him."

"Were you?"

She clamped her mouth shut and blushed again.

"That… that…" she stammered. He only kept his gaze level and she sighed. Maybe I was. It's just… It's Ron. It's strange and… and weird and… He's like my brother and… and we have nothing in common and… and… Why am I telling you this?" She got to her feet quickly.

Draco ignored her last question and looked up at her evenly.

"You don't like him," he stated. She fell back into her chair with a huff and shook her head.

"He got made when I told him no, and said I was only saying that because…" Tears appeared on her eyes again. "Because I must be having sex with someone else." She started sobbing, her head falling into her hands. Her body heaved with every sob and Draco tentatively reached out and touched her shoulder gently. He felt better that it hadn't been all his fault that she'd locked herself in. She sobbed harder and he moved so he was kneeling in front of her. What he hadn't expected was for her to throw her arm around his neck and cry into his shoulder. He awkwardly put his arms around her, unsure of what, exactly, was going on. He turned his head slightly, sniffing her hair. Lavender and Vanilla, the same as on the train. She was so vulnerable, so upset… She really was a prude if this bothered her so much.

They stayed like that, Hermione crying and Draco rubbing her back absently, until she stopped. She gave a couple hiccups and leaned back, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she blubbered with a few last sniffles.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. His arms were still around her and he wasn't entirely keen to change that. His eyes were locked on hers and she shifted a bit.

"Malfoy?"

"Sh…" He leaned forward, cupping her chin in his hand. He knew he shouldn't, she was still emotionally raw, but oh, did he want to. He brushed her lips lightly with his own. She stiffened instinctively.

"Malfoy…" she started, her tone a mixture of fear and disapproval.

"Trust me," he whispered, rubbing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She didn't pull away, but he could see suspicion in her eyes. He rose so he was leaning over her and kissed her lightly again. She lifted one of her hands to his that held her face, tracing his wrist lightly. He watched her for a second, desire building again, and became all too aware of the choice he had to make: keep playing the good guy or take what he so dearly wanted. He desperately wanted to ignore it and just be, but he knew that eventually he would have to choose, no matter how much he didn't want to. He kissed her again, fore forcefully and pushed her further back into the chair. He set one of his knees beside her thigh, leaning his forearm against the wing of the chair. His teeth grazed her lip lightly and she gasped. His tongue darted in, brushing hers. When she trembled against him and threaded her fingers through his hair, he knew his choice had to be made.

He leaned back from her, expression a mix of regret and uncertainty.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, stepping back slowly. She jumped up too, face flushed.

"Wh-what? Why?!" she demanded, reaching for him. She grabbed his hand and gave it a tug. He groaned inwardly.

"Merlin, Granger, I'm trying to be the good guy, alright?!" He pulled his hand free. "You're emotional and you're not thinking clearly. And as much as I'd love to ravage you in that chair and fuck you on the table, it's not exactly the gentlemanly thing to do when you're this upset!" He ran both his hands through his hair, frustrated with himself. She only stared at him, her cheeks darkening with a blush and he growled something under his breath. "Never mind, just…" He threw up his hands and stalked up to his room, leaving a very confused Hermione Granger.

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**I even think this one may have been free of typos. =D**


	9. Chapter 8

Draco stared absently out the window as rain plummeted in sheets, leaving ripples across the surface of Black Lake. The sky was a dismal shade of grey and the clouds hung low. He could almost see lightning forming. Fog had been forming over the ground. He shifted his leg, trying to restore the blood flow after sitting awkwardly on the window sill for hours. His mind kept turning over and over itself, driving him mad as it replayed the entire encounter. He closed his eyes for a second and the look on her face after he told her what he wanted to do to her appeared in his mind's eye. He ran a hand over his face and lurched to his feet. He hobbled over to the bathroom and turned on the sink. He splashed his face a few times and leaned on the basin, letting the water drip off.

_Am I getting soft?_ he thought, _What makes it different now? I could have done so many things to her… _His eyes misted over for a second but he shook his head. _Dammit, why is this __difficult__? _He refused to believe he was developing any sort of feelings for her. Feelings beyond lust and, at the very most, companionship.

The first flash of lightning streaked across the sky and a loud crack echoed through the castle. Draco stepped back from the sink and went back to his window. Droplets of water raced down the glass pane and pooled on the stone ledge outside. Another flash of lightning was swiftly accompanied by a clap of thunder. The fire sputtered as stray raindrops fell down the chimney

Amid the sounds of the storm, there was a quiet knock on his door, so quiet he almost missed it. He opened it and a pair of wide gold eyes greeted him. Hermione was shaking under the red, down quilt off her bed that was now wrapped around her shoulders. She looked down at her feet awkwardly for a second and he could see her cheeks turn pink.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… bother you. It's just-" Another thunderclap cut her off and she jumped with a squeak. She pulled the quilt tighter around herself, still shaking. Her eyes were still red, but (at least he'd hoped) she'd stopped crying. Her lip quivered and he felt a tug at his heart. "I'm sorry," she mumbled again.

Internally, he scrambled for the proper response, staring blankly at her for two seconds. He could think of no reply.

"Are you alright?" he finally managed, mentally kicking himself for such a lame answer. Surely he could come up with something more charming and witty…

She opened her mouth to reply, then jumped when lightning struck and thunder boomed again. He now realized her eyes were wide with fear and her tremors were not from cold. She shook her head quickly, hair flying in her face. A smaller flash and bang made her start.

"I'm sorry. It's just the storm. It's…"

"You're afraid?" He tilted his head curiously, ignoring many "confused puppy" references that were forming in his head.

She blushed deeper and ducked her head, nodding quickly. She pulled the quilt higher around her shoulders and shifted uncomfortably. He only stared at her as the storm raged.

"Just forget it," she finally said, turning away. The fire popped and she jumped. Damn, she was skittish.

"Wait," he said quickly, reaching for her. He grabbed the quilt and slid off her body a bit, bearing her shoulder. The think black strap of her tank top stood out against her pale skin. She looked back at him curiously. "Why don't you come in?" Her face brightened and she almost dashed into his room. He closed the door, shoving one hand in his pocket. She was looking around, eyes wide and a smile pulling at her lips. He felt self-conscious for a moment, wondering what she thought, but she looked back at him. In the back of his mind, he remembered teasing her for wanting to see the "infamous" interior of his room.

"Thank you."

He shrugged, leaning against the wall beside the door.

"You're afraid of the storm?"

She pursed her lips and inched closer to the fire.

"I've always been scared of thunder…" she finally whispered, turning her gaze to the flames. She sank so she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looked so out of place; a delicate woman shrouded in red, surrounded by a sea of green. "I don't know why, it just… It just seems like something's coming… something bad."

He sauntered over, settling down in front of the fire a foot or so away from her. Her fear wasn't completely irrational, merely misplaced, he thought. After all, war was brewing. Far from Hogwarts, perhaps, but still.

"Makes sense." He set his forearms on his knees and clasped his hands together. What else could he say? What else could he do, really? His mind flashed images before his eyes, all suggesting the one thing he could definitely do. He shook his head. "Why come to me, though?"

"Well…" She plucked at the quilt and it slid further off her shoulder. "You were nice to me earlier. I mean, you cared, right? And what you said, about being a good guy… I guess I feel like I should at least give you a chance and trust you."

"You trust me?" He didn't scoff.

She ran a hand through her hair, sending the already wild curls into disarray. She didn't say anything for a minute or two, and when she did, she skirted his question.

"That thing you said before… Was that true?" She jumped when the thunder roared, sounding even closer.

"What thing?"

"You know…" She squirmed uncomfortably. "After all the other… After…" She chewed her lip and he felt his skin grow hot. "After we… kissed." She whispered the last word, barely audible over the rain.

He watched her for a few seconds before he leaned over and took her face in his hand. Before she had looked at him, he kissed her gently.

"Like that?" He saw her blush spread down her neck and she nodded. "Every word of it." His words ground themselves out from somewhere deep in his chest. His hand down her neck and over her bare shoulder.

"Why?" she finally breathed. The firelight made her eyes glow and he couldn't help but gaze into them, wondering if it were possible that, perhaps, hers did lead to her soul. "I thought you hated me."

"We've already been through that, love," he murmured, fingertips ghosting over her collarbone and up her neck. She trembled. "I don't hate you." She opened her mouth to reply but he put a finger over her lips. "Why do you want to know?"

She let go of the quilt and it pooled around her on the ground and she took his hand in both of hers. She ran her fingers delicately over his knuckles, watching them, not him. He took that opportunity to admire her. Though he'd seen her in much less, he still liked what he saw. He felt his pants grow tighter and bit down a moan.

"Because…" she finally said, "if you meant it…" She let her sentence trail off, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

"I… I don't understand…" Another thunderclap made her flinch and he reached out with his other hand. He tilted her chin up to look at him.

"Y-You said th-that-"

"I know what I said," he interrupted.

"W-Well… I mean… W-Would you? If… If I…"

He cut her off, his lips stilling her own. His hand fell from her face to her waist and pulled her closer. Her body bent to his and she dropped his hand to grab his shoulders. He pushed her back so she was lying on top of that infuriatingly Gryffindor-red quilt of hers. When he pulled back from her lips, both their breathing came in erratic puffs. She propped herself on one elbow, eyes searching his. But his searched her body, sliding down her neck, her chest, and then back up. A smirk spread across his face and she looked momentarily alarmed. Until he smoothed her hair with his hand, cupping her cheek again. She leaned her face into his hand, her eyes falling closed. He kissed her again, softly, again and again with steadily more pressure. His tongue brushed her lip insistently and she let him in. He tasted as much as he could, letting his hand wander up and down her waist, and she didn't stop him. In fact, she indulged him, sliding her ankle up his calf and looking her leg over his hip. Where, oh where, had this Hermione come from?

He pushed the straps of her tank top off her shoulders and tugged it down, inch by inch. Her hands went to his hair and he bit her lip lightly. She hummed appreciatively and he forced her shirt down around her waist. He groaned when he felt the hardened peaks of her breasts through his shirt, praising every deity for her lack of a bra. She slipped her arms out of it, gripping his hair again as he traced the curve of her breast.

"Draco…" she murmured through swollen lips, desperation coloring her voice. He growled, bending his head to bite her neck. Her body arched to his and he had to resist the urge to fuck her right then. His thumb traced light circles around her nipple, making her whimper helplessly. He sucked hard on her neck and she gasped. He groaned, letting his fingers brush the sensitive peak. She moaned and he gave it a light pinch, rolling it between his fingers. She squirmed under him, tugging his hair as he worked to mark her neck. He brought his lips back to hers and she kissed his hard. Her lips grew more and more frantic, her kisses more passionate, as he kept teasing her breast. She rolled her body against his and he moaned, pulling back from her.

"Shit, Hermione," he growled, looking down at her. She smirked back at him, panting. The dramatic rise and fall of her chest caught his attention and he bent his head, taking her forgotten nipple in his mouth.

She moaned loudly and let her hands slide down his back. She dragged her nails across his back and he could feel it through his shirt. His teeth grazed the rosy nub and she whimpered out a moan, pulling his as close as she physically could. He sucked hard and her body arched up. Her cries of pleasure were a high-pitched keen in his ear and he could feel her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He released her nipple with a pop and shrugged out of his shirt. She stared up at him, flushed and panting, her hair fanned out around her head. Her hands strayed over the planes of his chest and down his torso. She hooked her fingers in the top of his trousers and gave them a playful tug forward. He clenched his teeth, biting down his instinctive urge to demand more from her. He hooked one arm around her back and lifted her up to him, kissing her fiercely. She tugged his trousers so their hips were flush and he moaned against her lips. He felt delicious friction everywhere, her breasts against his chest and her hips pressed to his. He was sure she could feel how hard he was.

"God, Draco," she moaned against his lips as their bodies ground together. He growled and bit her lip, slipping his tongue past it to fight with hers. She was so pliant under his hands. He gripped the back of her thigh, his over hand sliding over her arse, giving it a squeeze. Her fingers dipped lower in the top of his trousers and he shifted both of his hands to her arse, kneading it and kissing her urgently. His breath came out as a hiss between his teeth when one of her small hands snuck into his trousers, feeling his length through his boxers.

"Hermione…" he growled and she gave him a sly smile and his cock a squeeze. "Fuck, little minx…" She grew more confident, openly stroking him, her gaze almost challenging. He gripped her arse and lifted her, standing himself. She hooked her legs loosely around him, her hand still down his pants. He almost dropped her onto his bed and she scrambled to her knees, pulling her hand free. He only watched as she undid his trousers, tugging them down off his hips. She eyes the tent in his boxers appreciatively, licking her lips in anticipation. He knotted his hand in the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her up into a hot kiss. She absently tugged his boxers down and he sprang free. He pushed her back onto the mattress and pulled her his to the edge. He jerked her shorts off her body and her cotton panties came away in shreds. Her eyes were locked on him, clouded with lust as she lay, flushed and panting, under his smoldering stare. She bit her lips as he rubbed her thigh distractedly.

"Hermione, just stop me now," he panted between light kisses up and down her neck, "Either you stop me now, or I won't stop at all." He had expected her to hesitate at the very least, but she didn't. Instead, she shook her head, murmuring her slightly-incoherent approval.

He entered her in one swift motion and she screamed, hands knotting in the sheets and her head falling to one side. Pain forced a few tears down her face as she tried to breathe evenly. He rubbed small circles on her sides, trying extremely hard not to pound into her. He should have known she'd be a virgin. After a few seconds, he rolled his hips against her and she gasped.

"Fuck, Hermione," he gasped, fingers digging into her hips to hold himself up as his knees buckled, "you're so fucking tight!" She whimpered out a moan as he rolled his hips into her again and again and he pulled out a bit further before thrusting back in.

"Shit, Draco," she moaned, body arching off the bed. Her moans and cries of pleasure made all the blood in his body rush to his cock. He pistoned in and out of her heat, slowly picking up his pace. He lifted her hips, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder and he could feel himself go deeper. She tried to stifle and scream and instinctively he stopped. His eyes were wide with concern.

"Merlin, Draco… Do that again…"

He grinned wolfishly and pulled almost entirely out before sheathing himself deep in her folds again. She screamed, not bothering to hold it back, again and again as he thrust deep and he knew each of her screams brought him closer and closer. His hand snaked between them, searching until he found her clit. Her screams rose and octave and her breathing was nothing more than a bunch of short pants.

"Cum for me, Hermione," he growled, pace now frantic, "I wanna hear you scream my name when you cum."

A moan escaped her lips and he swooped down to catch them in a fiery kiss before leaning back to watch her face. Her eyes were hooded and unfocused and her head thrown back. Another moan was pulled out of her rosy lips. He rubbed her clit in small, fast circles and she screamed again.

"Oh Merlin, Draco!" she screamed, body arching up as every muscle in her body tightened around him.

He ground his teeth and kept moving in and out of her, riding out her orgasm until he exploded inside of her. He fell onto his forearms, holding his weight barely an inch off her. Tiredly, he scooped her up and moved her to the top of the bed, snuggling up to her back and burying his face in the crook of her neck. She mumbled something indistinct and he tightened his arms around her middle, enjoying the feel of her curves pressed against him as they both fell asleep.


End file.
